


Burnin' For You

by DeanstielsDaughter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Healing, Animal Shifter Castiel (Supernatural), Caring Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel's Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Destiel - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Gen, M/M, Season Eight, Season/Series 08, Sick Dean Winchester, Sickfic, Sickness, Vomiting, Worried Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:14:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28440726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanstielsDaughter/pseuds/DeanstielsDaughter
Summary: Castiel was burning in every way possible, but brighter now that he's gotten his grace back from Metatron.Dean is burning too, but not in a good way.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56





	Burnin' For You

When Dean finally felt the Impala’s tires glide into place on the bunker’s garage floor, the hunter let out a shaky breath, and squeezed his eyes shut.

Dean blinked a few times, not fully comprehending what Sam had just said to him, but still nodding along as though he’d heard it, and Sam was none the wiser. He caught only the last two words, swallowing hard, and trying to coat his strained throat with moisture that it was desperately lacking.

His head was throbbing, and his entire body ached something awful as though he’d been hit by several busses, but Dean still thrust himself up from the driver’s seat and tried to cover up the small whine that escaped his throat. He gripped the side of the Impala, curling his fingers around the open door and finding his balance again before reaching for his duffle in the back seat.

The garage door opened with a loud metal creak and Sam let a smile cross his face before embracing Castiel in a deep hug. The pair hadn’t seen the angel for more than a moment at a time ever since his grace had been returned to him. Metatron was still out there, but the brothers had zilch and there had been a small vampire nest that needed eradicating before anybody else in the small town of Newmore, Indiana had died.

Dean could barely hear the sentences Castiel and Sam exchanged over the sound of his own heart beating loudly in his clogged ears. Dean felt his legs buckle for a moment, sticking his arms out to steady himself, and he stared up into Sam’s eyes once his brother managed to turn around and take notice of what was happening.

“Dean?!” Sam exclaimed worriedly and the younger Winchester’s eyes widened at the sight of a suddenly very pale Dean shaking ever so slightly and swallowing hard as he tried to walk forward.

“Dean!” Castiel yelled, as worried as Sam once Dean stumbled once again.

Dean heard nothing else before he hit the floor.

***

“I don’t understand why you won’t let me help you?”

Castiel was busy arguing with Sam, as both the younger Winchester and the angel had taken one of each of Dean’s arms and slung them over their shoulders to get him to the hallway leading towards the bedrooms. Once Sam realized Dean’s feet were dragging, he gave a disgruntled look down to the ground and then quickly thrust his arms under Dean’s legs, scooping his elder brother up into his arms, and continuing the rest of the walk.

Castiel awkwardly stood back up, having thought of doing the same thing before Sam beat him to it. The angel nervously bit his lip, looking down then back up, and continued after a frantic Sam down the hall towards Dean’s room.

“Cas, you just got your grace back,” Sam explained, as he pushed at Dean’s bedroom door, but finally allowed Castiel to open it upon seeing him struggling.

“I’m sure he’s just got a bug of some kind; I can handle it.”

“If there is an insect that caused this affliction, at least allow me the pleasure of smiting it.” Castiel replied.

“No Cas,” Sam grunted, lifting Dean up onto his bed and setting the hunter down where his head could lie on a pillow.

“There is no actual bug. What I mean is that he’s most likely just sick with something. It happens to humans sometimes, and they get over it. He just needs to rest, and I need to get a few things just in case he needs them.”

“I could heal him,” Castiel suggested and stepped forward, reaching out a few fingers to Dean’s forehead, which was unnaturally warm to the touch. The hunter’s skin was clammy and wet with sweat and Castiel felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him.

His grace tugged at his chest, sensing that Dean was in danger of some kind, and Castiel fought to keep his mother hen instincts at bay.

Instead, he focused his attention on the sick man before him and tried to allow his grace to come forth. At first, the angel’s hand glowed, but quickly sputtered out and Castiel hissed in pain as the grace vanished as quickly as he’d tried to bring it forth.

“See what I mean?” Sam sighed. “You need to recharge too. Just let me handle it, please. I know what to do.”

Castiel seemed almost hurt by Sam’s comment, but tried not to show that he had taken offense to Sam’s statement. Sam tried his best not to get any further into an argument with Castiel, not when Dean’s health was concerned. Instead, he chose to study the way Castiel looked over Dean’s unconscious form with immense concern of his own. The angel reached his fingers out again, but instead of trying to heal, he simply placed them against Dean’s stubble and Sam caught sight of him slowly rubbing the hunter’s cheek with his index and ring fingers.

“He is warm.” Castiel observed.

“It’s a fever,” Sam explained. “It’s due to him fighting off whatever sickness he’s come down with. I can bring it down. I just need to give him medicine. Knowing Dean, he went through the whole hunt feeling like this. Probably why he was dragging ass the whole time. I can’t believe I didn’t notice.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Castiel placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes. “We all know how stoic your brother can be.”

Sam nodded, feeling a bit better after Castiel’s comment. The younger Winchester smiled and nodded before looking back over at Dean passed out on his bed and weakly shifting his body a few inches to get more comfortable. Dean let out another small whine and moved again, ever so slightly, trying to cuddle himself deeper into the mattress.

“I don’t want to leave him alone,” Sam said. “Just stay here until I get some Gatorade from the fridge and maybe some medicine or something from one of these bathrooms, if we even have any.”

Sam reluctantly walked out the bedroom door, leaving Castiel alone with Dean, and the angel slowly came closer to the hunter until he reached the edge of the bed and sat down. He listened carefully to Dean’s breathing and found a slight wheeze was coming from the hunter’s lungs. Castiel knew so little in technical terms of human illness, but he could tell Dean was in pain.

It hurt Castiel worse that there was nothing he could do beyond waiting. Normally, something like this could be dealt with in a mere moment, but the angel was useless.

He felt useless as ever.

Despite lack of success in previous attempts, Castiel refused to give up. He lightly ran his fingers everywhere over the hunter’s body, trying to find an access point for his grace that wouldn’t drain the angel too terribly. No such point revealed itself or made sense.

Castiel let out a sigh.

Suddenly though, Castiel jumped back as Dean shot up abruptly and starting making a sort of choking sound. The hunter’s shoulders hunched, and he heaved a few times before coughing up spit and bile from his mostly empty stomach onto the blanket in front of him, down the front of his shirt, and some onto Castiel’s jacket as the angel caught him from falling over.

Castiel held Dean upright, unfortunately taking the brunt of the rest of the spit up, but the angel remained unmoved. Dean looked over at the mess he’d made of the left side of Castiel’s trench coat and coughed a few times before looking, sadly and tiredly, up into the angel’s eyes.

“M’sorry…” Dean whimpered; eyes blown like a scared animal.

The fear that filled Dean’s eyes made Castiel feel saddened. The angel cocked his head, gently running his fingers through Dean’s messy hair and pushing it away from his forehead.

“Dean,” Castiel replied. “It’s not your fault. It’s okay.”

Dean hung his head, embarrassed, and Castiel reached his hand towards the hunter’s back to rub it. He felt Dean lean into his touch the moment his hand contacted with Dean’s shoulder blades.

Then Sam entered the room, taking in the scene of both Dean and Castiel covered in puke, and he dropped the Gatorade and medicine bottles onto the side table before taking Dean’s arm in his hand.

“Dean,” Sam tried to get through the fever haze of his brother’s mind and once Dean looked him in the eyes, he figured he was good to give instructions. “Dean, we have to change your clothes okay. Just…can I stand you up?”

Dean didn’t answer, but Sam gently lifted his brother anyway. Sam looked over at Castiel, who stared down at the sick on his jacket, moving the half of it that was covered aside, as though observing something most peculiar.

“I’m sorry Cas,” Sam said, swallowing hard, and adjusting his grip on Dean. “Sometimes humans do that too. It’s one of the grosser things about us.”

“It’s fine,” Castiel replied and shrugged off his jacket, witnessing Dean observing him stripping off his top layer through lidded heavy eyes and trying to ignore the slight smirk that crossed over the elder Winchester’s face. Or, at least, trying to determine if he’d imagined it or not.

“It is not his fault. Where does Dean keep his clean clothes?” Castiel asked.

“Just try all the drawers for pajamas,” Sam sat Dean down on a nearby chair and watched him intently to make sure he wasn’t going to fall out of it. “And boxers if you don’t mind. He’s probably sweated through the ones he has on.”

While Castiel searched the dresser, Sam pulled a few tissues from a nearby box and begun to wipe off Dean’s mouth and shirt. Dean stared at his brother in a haze, trying his best to focus, and Sam placed the back of his hand on Dean’s forehead and let out a deep worried sigh.

“We gotta get this down, fast.” Sam shook his head and pulled Dean up from the chair. “Cas scratch the clothes for now. Help me get some cold water into the bathtub.”

Castiel cocked his head but didn’t ask questions. He could tell there wasn’t time for a dissertation. Instead, he helped Sam carry Dean to the bathroom attached to the hunter’s room and preoccupied himself with adjusting the bathwater to keep from staring too intently at Dean’s half naked form that Sam had just exposed.

Sam had thrown Dean’s shirt and jacket across the room and was currently holding Dean’s head up as he struggled with the button and zipper of his jeans. Castiel hid his face for a moment, regaining composure, and then finally managed to assist Sam with the removal of Dean’s pants and, lastly, his socks.

“Buy me dinner first why don’t you?” Dean fumbled over his words, smirking a tiny smirk up at Castiel when the angel came face to face with him. Castiel felt his cheeks begin to flush but ignored the sick hunter’s ramblings and helped Sam lift Dean up into the cold water in the bathtub.

The scream that pierced through Dean’s throat when his body broke the surface of the water sent a wave of painful emotion through Castiel, and the angel had to resist the urge to leap into the tub and drag Dean out of it. It was the same cadence and volume of screaming he’d heard when he’d succeeded in pulling Dean from Hell.

Pain. Sadness. Confusion. Delirium.

Castiel could feel it all coming in waves out from Dean and it took everything he had to remain by Sam and to not pull the hunter up into his arms away from the water.

“I’m sorry Dean,” Sam choked out, holding his brother in the water, and trying to keep Dean from getting up right away. “We have to get your temperature down. I’m so sorry.”

Sam kept repeating apologies, holding back his own anguish in his words, and trying his best to just help his brother without overriding his actions. Keeping in mind that what he was doing was the right thing to do.

“Just a few more minutes, okay?” Sam reassured him and Dean cried out a few more times before going silent, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes, and he slumped over into what little of Sam’s flannel covered body leaned over the tub.

Water soaked through Sam’s shirt, but he obliged and pulled Dean closer, feeling his forehead again, and nodding at Castiel to pull the plug on the drain. The angel followed orders, observing the way Dean shook and shivered so violently, even after Sam wrapped him in a towel.

Humans were so fragile. Castiel determined that he never wanted to be one ever again, if this was what it meant.

“It’s over,” Sam said to Dean, rubbing the towel across Dean’s body to warm him. “Okay, we’ll get you back in bed now. I promise.”

“That sucked.” Dean rasped out, his voice gone from both yelling and the hearty rawness of his throat. Dean’s teeth chattered, and he leaned further into Sam’s touch.

Castiel took in the sight of the hunter’s swollen neck, his lymph nodes working against whatever infectious disease had entered his body. Dean’s eyes were as though they were made of glass. His hair stuck out at all angles, wettened by the water and by fever.

He looked so small, Castiel concluded. So tiny compared to the powerful nature of the man Castiel was used to seeing on the daily.

Once Dean was clothed in the warmest pajamas Castiel could find and back in his bed, Sam seemed to take notice of the slight rattling sound coming from Dean’s lungs. The phlegmy undertones in the way he talked. The barking cough he had developed. The way his temperature had suddenly soared the closer they were getting to nightfall.

“Definitely the flu,” Sam sighed. “Or something like it. Try and get him to drink something. I’ll go get some soup and other stuff from the store, if you don’t mind playing babysitter.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Sam,” Castiel nodded, sensing the worry that filled Sam’s being and mind. “Do what you must to help Dean.”

There was no doubt in Castiel’s mind that this scene was remarkably familiar, but most likely the other way around. Dean had, most definitely, taken care of Sam every time he’d gotten this sick or worse when he was young.

The way Sam was acting was as though he was dealing with something foreign. Something that scared the hell out of him more so than any monster ever could. His older brother, the one who had most likely hidden any ailments of his own in order to care for his little brother his whole life, was down and out, and Sam was at a loss for what to do.

“I will watch over him,” Castiel reassured Sam, and Sam hesitated by the door for a moment, staring back at his sleeping brother.

“I promise no further harm will come to your brother. I won’t allow it. I told you I wanted to help, and I still will, any way that I can.”

Sam gave the angel a tired smile and thanked Castiel before leaving, his footsteps echoing down the hallway until Castiel couldn’t hear them any longer. Castiel turned to face Dean, curled in on himself on the bed, a sight that the angel had never seen before either. Normally, Dean wasn’t one to leave himself vulnerable in any way to anything while sleeping. A gun was always close by or a knife. Something that wouldn’t allow him to be attacked.

Now, Dean simply looked as though he were a wounded creature, laying on the floor of a forest and hoping for the end.

“Oh Dean…” Castiel breathed out and took a seat beside the hunter, placing a hand on the same arm he had marked all those years ago. Dean was starting to warm up again, but it was slower this time. Nothing to be worried about at the current moment.

Still, Castiel had made a promise to Sam, and he never left a promise unfulfilled.

“Dean,” Castiel whispered, gently shaking the hunter awake. “You need to drink.”

Dean moaned, blinking a few times before his double vision allowed there to only be one Castiel sitting before him.

“Please,” Castiel uncapped the white Gatorade bottle and hovered the opening close to Dean’s mouth. “This aids gators somehow, but I think Sam is under the impression it will help you retain some of the bodily fluids you have lost.”

Dean sighed and finally allowed Castiel to tip the liquid into his mouth. Once it filled his cheeks, Dean slowly swallowed, and gauged his intake by the increasing nauseous feeling in his stomach. Finally, he waved Castiel off, and the angel stopped pouring it in his mouth.

“You are lacking color in your cheeks,” Castiel chided, cupping Dean’s left cheek without much thought before realization washed over him and he tried to take it away. Dean, however, leaned in closer, and closed his eyes.

“Your hand is cold,” Dean slurred. “Feels nice.”

“I can make it colder,” Castiel nodded and used what little was required of his powers to adjust the temperature of his vessel. Dean let out a blissful sigh. “You need to drink more.”

“No,” Dean abruptly shook his head and started coughing again as he laid back down on the pillow, closing his eyes to try and stop the room from spinning.

“I feel sick.”

“You are sick,” Castiel replied. “Sam told me.”

“No Cas,” Dean swallowed down the coppery taste that suddenly started to fill his mouth. “I mean my stomach-.”

Dean started to cough and heave once again, but Castiel was quicker the second time around in jumping to action. He reached for the nearby trash can and placed it up underneath Dean’s mouth. The Gatorade Dean had just consumed came back up and Dean let out a few loud coughs before spitting and trying to catch his breath.

“You really are sick.” Castiel commented, feeling a sense of urgency about his lack of being able to heal his friend.

“No shit.” Dean groaned and leaned back into his pillow, his fingers shaking a little, and Castiel grabbed for the trash can. The angel put it back down beside the bed and continued to stare intently at Dean.

“Take a picture, Cas,” Dean rasped out and coughed again a few times. “It’ll last longer.”

“I have plenty of mental pictures of you in my mind, Dean.” Castiel replied, suddenly realizing the implication of the words he had just said, and the angel bashfully looked away for a moment.

“Oh yeah?” Dean chuckled ever so slightly, trying his best to talk through his wheezing, and suddenly he broke into another fit of harsh coughing. The witty smile on Dean’s face faded and he blinked slowly a few times, trying to rid the black dots blinking in and out of existence in front of his eyes.

“Rest,” Castiel demanded and pulled the blanket up a bit further to Dean’s chest. The warmth from the comforter allowed Dean’s mind to relax, to slow down, and embrace the softness of the bed.

The hunter had never felt so tired before, at least not that he could remember.

Castiel started towards the door, figuring Dean would wish to be left alone while he slept. He usually did. The angel recalled many a time that he’d been yelled at for staring or observing the pair of brothers while they slept.

It wasn’t his fault that counting Dean’s freckles was such an inviting activity, and the fact that there was no way the hunter would let it happen while he was awake so Castiel had to take advantage of what little time he got.

“Cas, don’t leave me!” Dean called out, suddenly realizing the fear he felt at being alone in such a state of being. It was one thing to be alone in a normal situation after a hunt, but Dean couldn’t explain the feeling of intense anxiety he was dealing with at the moment.

He’d never asked anybody to stay, not even Sam.

Castiel turned around and Dean felt his heart jump ever so slightly, but he chose to ignore that.

That was a problem for another time. A time he knew would never come, but he still tried to talk himself into it time and time again.

“If that is what you desire,” Castiel pulled the chair beside the bed closer to him and sat down. “That is what I will do.”

Dean felt his body relax once more, and the hunter settled into the pillow, facing away from Castiel. Dean closed his eyes and tried not to think about the angel, who was most likely staring at the back of his head, watching over him yet another time.

Dean would never admit aloud that it was the best feeling in the world to him.

***

Castiel leaned up against the wall behind Dean’s bed, anxiously looking over at the man slumped beside him, struggling a little to breathe.

It was late. The duo found themselves in the wee hours of the night and Dean had barely slept. At least, not in the way that Castiel wanted for the man. The hunter’s fever had returned with a vengeance and it took all Castiel had not to drain himself of grace to cure him. Dean shivered forcibly, letting out tiny noises of discomfort as he did. He couldn’t get warm, no matter how many blankets were piled on top of him

Sam had come back earlier, having told Castiel he had bought several cans of soup and a new bottle of medicine. The angel had agreed to give both to Dean when it was appropriate, and despite Sam’s protests, Castiel had assured the younger Winchester he was fully capable of handling the situation.

_“Are you sure you’ve got this?” Sam had asked._

_“Yes, Sam. I will make sure Dean is alright. I know how much he means to you.” Castiel had nodded, looking over at Dean, asleep and curled in on himself in the bed, and Sam had to place a hand on the angel’s shoulder in order to break his trance._

_“I could say the same about you, regarding him.”_

_“I am unsure of what you mean.” Castiel had replied and refused to look Sam in the eyes._

_“It’s okay, Cas,” Sam had nodded. “I hate to throw my brother under the bus while he’s down and out, but he feels the same. He’s just a little emotionally stunted. Always has been.”_

_Castiel had looked over, hopefully, at Sam._

_“It takes a lot for Dean to open up,” Sam had explained. “My dad was no help when it came to that. Just, let him know you care, and he’ll reciprocate in the ways he knows how.”_

That had been hours ago, and Castiel didn’t think that Sam had quite meant that the pair would find themselves in the same bed, with Dean’s head having slowly moved onto Castiel’s chest, and the angel gingerly and nervously placing his arm around Dean’s body and held him close.

Yet here they were.

Castiel observed the contours of Dean’s face as he tried to sleep. His eyes fluttering behind his eyelids, his body convulsing ever so slightly every time he shook from chills. Castiel sighed, finally allowing both of his arms to cover Dean and he pulled the hunter and pile of blankets upon him closer, making sure his own vessel’s body heat was now capable of reaching Dean.

Castiel looked over quickly when Dean started to mumble under his breath. The elder Winchester hadn’t tried to eat anything since earlier when he’d downed about a quarter of a bowl of soup and then regurgitated it back up, refusing to try again. It broke Castiel’s heart to think about how hungry Dean would be, but Sam had assured him that rest was ultimately the best thing for Dean at the moment.

Castiel hesitated, but then carefully moved the bits of hair stuck to Dean’s sweaty forehead, observing the careful rising, and falling of Dean’s chest.

The room was quiet, almost too quiet. Castiel took the time to look around, to take in the essence of the décor and determine how much it truly fit Dean. There were a few music and muscle car posters, but otherwise, nothing beyond a family photo on Dean’s desk beside his father’s journal, and a few pieces of simple furniture here and there.

Dean was a simple man, yet so complex in so many ways that Castiel had yet to even begin to understand.

Suddenly, Dean’s mumbles turned louder, into shouts, and he started to thrash. Castiel jumped to attention, immediately shaking Dean’s shoulder, and trying to wake him up.

“Dean!” Castiel exclaimed. “Dean! Wake up!”

Dean cried out and twitched in Castiel’s arms. The sense of urgency the angel felt welled up until the point that he couldn’t take it anymore. Castiel quickly closed his eyes, placing two fingers onto Dean’s hot forehead, and allowed himself into Dean’s mind.

***

_Dean was running in a desert._

_Cacti and dried cracked sand surrounded him. The sky was blue and filled with white fluffy clouds, floating away into the great beyond. The weather was perfect._

_The monsters chasing him were terrifying._

_Dean was weaponless, as he always was when he had this dream, and yet he still patted down his pockets to check. The monsters were nondescript, as they always were. Black masses with red glowing eyes and a mouthful of sharp fangs. He suspected vampires, but he never stuck around long enough to find out._

_Dean ducked behind the same wall of sandy rock he always did and took a few deep breaths, carefully looking around and recalibrating his thoughts. There was no way out. The desert was long, vast, and open. There was no hiding besides where he was now._

_Dean closed his eyes tightly and listened, trying to determine where the monsters were. They weren’t far from finding him now._

_Suddenly, he heard a cawing sound, and opened his eyes._

_Up in the sky was a medium sized tawny brown hawk. The bird flew in a circle above Dean, looking around the area to find the source of Dean’s distress. The hawk let out another cry and swooped down from the air, and landing before a crouching Dean. Dean’s legs gave out and the hunter hit the ground in shock, watching as the powerful bird stared down the monsters, looking back only once at Dean and exposing its piercing blue eyes._

_Eyes that were most unusual for a hawk._

_Dean’s mouth gaped ever so slightly, and then the hawk turned forward._

_The hawk sprung, letting forth a powerful blast of light, and Dean shielded his eyes._

***

Dean gasped loudly when he awoke, still shaking and looking around for the monsters, the desert, and the hawk. The hawk.

Dean looked up into Castiel’s eyes. The same eyes as the creature from his dream.

“Dean,” Castiel took in a sharp intake of breath, and then exhaled his relief. “Oh, thank god.”

“Wouldn’t thank Him yet if I were you.” Dean tiredly slurred, sweat pouring his body, and he shivered more and more violently as Castiel watched, helplessly, and tried his best not to panic.

The longer the angel watched Dean, the faster it dawned on him.

“Dean,” Castiel said, shifting his weight so that he faced the hunter, and Dean stared up at the angel in confusion. “I have an idea of how to fix this, but I need to know that I have your consent.”

“Cas? What?” Dean breathed out, hoarsely coughing, and wincing in pain afterward.

“Please, just let me do this,” Castiel looked over at the door, expecting Sam to bust through and lecture him on recharging himself once more, but the footsteps never came, and, instead, Castiel grabbed Dean’s cheeks and looked him seriously in the eyes.

“I need you to say yes.”

Dean felt a strong surge of emotion come over him when he looked up into Castiel’s blue eyes. Dean’s heartbeat sped up as he nodded, giving Castiel the yes, he wanted, and with how close the angel was slowly starting to get to him.

There was a ringing sound and Castiel’s eyes glowed brightly. The angel cocked his head and leaned in closer to Dean, capturing the hunter’s lips with his own, and Dean let out a small choking sound as he felt Castiel’s warm grace seep down his hurt throat.

Dean felt the warmth go into his chest, flooding throughout his skin and veins, and the shivers stopped. Castiel’s eyes were closed and the angel’s lips were still on Dean’s, but gentler than before, as though he were holding the world in his hands.

Dean no longer felt the sickness, but he did feel as though time had suddenly stopped.

It felt as though it had been an eternity since Castiel had first kissed him, but finally the angel let go and leaned back, looking worriedly into Dean’s grass green eyes. Both the angel and the hunter were at a loss for words for a few moments before either managed to speak.

“Well, that was-.” Dean started.

“I must go.” Castiel stated and abruptly got up from the bed, leaving the room without a second glance back.

The emptiness Dean suddenly felt was immense, and the hunter swallowed a hard lump starting to form in his throat.

It took ever fiber of his being not to run down the hall after Castiel.

***

Once morning hit, and Dean realized he was capable of walking without falling over, he went to find Sam.

“Morning,” Sam looked up from his laptop, carefully watching Dean as the elder hunter took a seat at the long map table.

“How you feeling?”

“I’ve been better,” Dean commented, his voice still on the mend, but his throat was no longer in pain. “But I think I’m healed.”

“Must have been some damn good medicine.” Sam replied, shocked at how fast the pills had worked, considering they were from the dollar store.

“Cas helped,” Dean said, and waved Sam off when he donned a look of annoyance and started to get up to reprimand the angel.

“He’s fine. No need to get your panties in a bunch. Although, it was a rather unconventional way to do it, he got the job done.”

Dean had debated even bringing up the fact that Castiel had kissed him in order to heal him. There was a lingering feeling of fear that welled up in Dean’s chest at the thought of what it all meant. It wasn’t as though the act had had anything romantic leading up to it, it was simply Castiel trying to get his grace into Dean’s system as quickly as he possibly could.

Yet, there was that nagging feeling that Dean still felt, and the hunter bit his lip before providing Sam with another answer.

“He used his grace, but he uh…had to kiss me in order to get it inside of me.”

Sam blinked a few times. Dean felt his stomach do nervous somersaults, but at least no more vomit came up.

“Well,” Sam blew air out of his cheeks. “That was a long time coming, I’ll say that much.”

“What the hell are you talking about, man?” Dean replied, suddenly getting a bit more defensive than before.

It had been a mistake to tell Sam.

It was already out there though, and there certainly wasn’t any going back now.

“Oh, come on Dean,” Sam rolled his eyes. “The two of you have been making googly eyes at one another for years now, you just either didn’t know it or chose to ignore it.”

Dean swallowed hard again, shifting in his seat, and clenching one of his fists under the table.

“Anyway,” Sam continued. “I’m not sure if you can count a feverish half-conscious kiss as your sexual awakening, but I’m still happy for you.”

Sam’s words echoed in Dean’s head long after they initially left his little brother’s mouth. It wasn’t a sexual awakening. It had just been Castiel, trying to help in any way that he could, and succeeding. As he always did.

Still, Dean had to admit, he felt the slight flutter of butterflies just thinking about it.

“I gave him my consent,” Dean argued back, and Sam gave him a small smile and nod as Dean stood up and pushed his chair in. “Just so you know.”

“He’s in one of the many guest rooms,” Sam explained. “If you want to tell him all of this yourself.”

Sam’s words struck a chord with Dean, and the elder Winchester felt his stomach and heart flip flop once again at the thought of Castiel still being somewhere in the bunker. The thought of the angel within the brick walls, despite him having run away once more to avoid the difficult situation he’d been placed in.

It meant Dean still had a chance to speak his peace before the angel possibly vanished once again and they moved on to the next hunt, the next problem, and once again didn’t address it.

The elephant in the room had only been growing bigger ever since Dean had finally come to the realization, he had about himself, despite never having the courage to speak it aloud.

Dean turned from the table, making his way down the bunker hallway, on a high that, this time, he wouldn’t come down from no matter how bone shakingly anxious it made him.

***

Dean’s fist hovered against the door to Castiel’s room.

The angel had claimed the bedroom across the way from Dean. At first, the elder Winchester had thought nothing of it. Knowing that every other bedroom was severely lacking in furniture or the rest of the comforts of home.

That had to be it.

Dean bit his lip, finally knocking once, before turning the knob and entering the room.

The room was dark, with only one lamp on a side table on, and the bed was made with stiff sheets tucked in a hospital corners fashion. There was an empty desk across the way with a rolly office chair, but nothing else.

Castiel laid on the bed, as though he didn’t own it, and his head was cast up to the ceiling, eyes closed.

“Empty in here, isn’t it?” Dean commented, not really knowing what else to say.

“I do not have the need for human things.” Castiel replied, not opening his eyes, and not daring to look over at the nervous man in his bedroom’s doorway.

“What about humans…who want to help?” Dean replied and Castiel cracked open his tired eyes and finally managed to look over.

Dean timidly stood, with his hands in his pajama pants pockets, and nervously looked down and away form his friend.

Another sight that Castiel couldn’t recall seeing before.

“You must have drained yourself,” Dean came closer. “Healing me. You just got your grace back, man.”

Dean carefully sat down on the end of the bed, still not daring look Castiel in the eyes.

“You were suffering,” Castiel explained. “It’s my job to protect you. It’s always been my job, ever since I took my oath.”

Dean’s heart fluttered in his chest at the thought of Castiel, up in Heaven, swearing his loyalty to a cause he hadn’t had a clue about the implications involved with it. Dean finally found his courage and lifted his chin to meet the angel’s gaze.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “Well, we all need help sometimes.”

Castiel’s eyes went wide at the sight of Dean climbing further into his bed and nudging him to move over. The angel obliged, feeling awkward due to the situation. Wordlessly, Dean settled into the pillow and closed his own eyes.

“I take it, you’re well.” Castiel said, whining ever so slightly and trying to hide it from Dean.

The hunter looked over at the sound, immediately concerned at the idea of Castiel being under the weather in any way along with him.

Suddenly, Castiel felt his body being pulled closer to Dean’s, and the angel was in the hunter’s arms. Castiel’s eyes went wide and his body went slightly stiff.

“As cheesy as this sounds,” Dean offered the angel a small smile. “I am now.”

Words didn’t come to Castiel, but he sure did enjoy the moment as he laid atop Dean and, eventually allowed his eyes to close.

**Author's Note:**

> Read and Review!  
> This wasn’t my best work, but I still enjoyed writing it. I have a soft spot for sick fics and wanted to write my own while I’m on the kick. I do hope everyone enjoyed it and I’ll be seeing you again real soon. 
> 
> I also have a headcanon that Dean often has the dream featured in this fic and said dream has been in many of my other fics that I've written as well. Castiel is the hawk, if that wasn't implied, and he often comes to Dean in this dream in his hawk form to calm him.


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